Tell Them
by support nickj
Summary: TITLE CHANGE AGAIN. Joe Jonas loses the only one he really loves, and falls apart completely, forced to go to a support group. That‘s where he meets Peyton, but he’s so sure that it’s only withdrawals from Callie that he doesn’t dare make the first move.
1. Chapter One

**SUMMARY ;**

Joe Jonas loses the only one he really loves, and falls apart completely, forced to go to a management and support group. That's where he meets Peyton, but he's so sure that it's only withdrawals from Callie that he doesn't dare make the first move.

**Before you start reading, grab some tissues, and listen to the song Wake Up by Coheed and Cambria as you read. It'll be better that way.**

_Gone.  
Passed Away.  
In Heaven.  
Away Forever.  
In A Better Place._  
_Dead._

Call it what you want. That's all she was now. Joe stood in the hospital, tears refusing to fall down his cheeks. He was denying it. He held the now limp daisies in his right hand. His hand loosened, and they fell to the ground, scattered around him.

_"No..."  
"I'm sorry, Joe."  
"NO!"_

He screamed, and pushed by his dad, scrambling into her hospital room, where two nurses were placing a shiny plastic cover over her. He angrily ripped it from their hands. Her bones were broken, wrist folded up at an awkward angle, both legs lying loose. Blood dripped down her face, and out her mouth.

_She's Gone.  
Passed Away.  
In Heaven.  
Away Forever.  
In A Better Place._  
_Dead._

Joe's tears couldn't stay back now, they erupted from his eyes, and he threw his body over hers, whispering un-comprehendible things into her ear, as he shook violently. He laid there for a minute, until he was so weak, he couldn't push the nurses away anymore. He was numb everywhere, and this hurt more than all the pain she could've possibly felt in that head on collision.

_It was raining, and Callie was laughing into her cell phone as she talked to Joe. Her little Prius Toyota slowly moving down main street._

_"Ill be there soon enough, Joey!"  
"But Callieeee…."  
"Joseph!"  
"Callie I miss you."  
"I was only at the Nutcracker!"  
"How did you do?"  
"Kristi fell onstage!"  
"That sucks for her, but how did_ **you** _do?"  
"I did excellent Joey. Why didn't you come, again?"  
"I'm sorry, Frankie's sick!"  
"It's okay. I'm glad you have good parenting skills already"  
"Nah, I just gave him a cup of Nyquil. He's out like a light!"  
"Joey!"  
"Whattttt?"  
"You don't give kids that much Nyquil!"  
"Oh. Oops."  
"Ha! Oops is righ-"  
"Callie?"_

_There was no answer._

_"Callie!"_

_The line went dead. Joe hung up the phone, and stared at it. What just happened? He shrugged, and looked down at Frankie, sleeping on the couch. He smiled to himself, wondering what he and Callie's child might look like when they decided to get married. He loved her more than anything. Several minutes later, his cell phone rang._

_"Hello?"  
"Is this Joseph Jonas?"  
"Yes... Who is this?"  
"This is Valley Health Hospital"  
"What?!"  
"Do you Know Callie Sawyer?"  
"Yes, she's my girlfriend!"  
"We need you down at the Hospital immediately."_

_Joe dropped the phone, and grabbed his brother's car keys, dashing out the door. He smacked his head, and ran back inside, picking up the cell phone again._

_"Are you still there?"  
"Yes, Mr. Jonas?"  
"What's the room number?"  
"308"  
"Thank you!"_

_Joe shoved the phone in his pocket, and ran out the door again. After fifteen of driving, he parked his brother's car outside the hospital and ran inside. When he reached her room, he opened the door, and shivered. She was still awake, and she was crying, as she looked up at Joe, she whispered out_

_"Joey! Please..."  
"Callie!"_

_He yelled, before the Doctor pushed him out the door, and he walked down the hall and bought her some flowers, to pass the nervous time away. He was shaking uncontrollably, and his parents and brothers came around the corner. His dad started talking to him, but Joe couldn't hear anything. He wasn't himself. He was out of body and mind. He seemed, unreal. As if he was a ghost. Joe shook his head, and pointed to room 308. His dad walked by, right as the Doctor came out, and started talking to him. His dad walked back to Joe, and put his hand out on his shoulder, and he seemed to be holding his own tears back._

_"She's..."_

_Gone.  
Passed Away.  
In Heaven.  
Away Forever.  
In A Better Place._  
_Dead._

_"No..."  
"I'm sorry, Joe."  
"NO!"_

Joe slipped from the nurses arms, crumpling to the ground, and he found no comfort in the hands that seemed to be rubbing his back. He would only find comfort if they were Callie's.

-----------------------------------

_It's never fair. Things never go the way you want them to. You find something real, and the second you take it for granted, it's gone. You give a little slack, and it flies away, or in some cases, dies away. Joe didn't emerge from his room for two weeks, but everyone could hear him get up in the middle of the night, every other day, to feed himself just enough not to die himself. They didn't dare to go downstairs and try to talk to him. He would just break down and cry again, and no one could see Joe like that. Callie gave him an aura. He was always smiling, because she was there. Now that she wasn't, he couldn't be happy; ever. He couldn't make it to her funeral. He couldn't stand admitting that she was gone. It was almost as if he expected her to jump out from under his bed, and scream 'just kidding'._

Joe's knees were folded under him, as he kneeled at the foot of his bed. He wrung his hands, and ferociously wiped away the salty tears from his face. He could hardly see anything anymore. His vision was blurred, and his eyes were always bloodshot. He gripped his dark hair, which was greasy and dirty from not showering in those two weeks. Denise would occasionally walk by his room, and spray Febreeze inside, and walk away quickly. Joe watched the blurred outline of his tears fall into his hands. They just wouldn't stop coming. He wondered if he'd ever run dry. His head was on permanent channel surf, and all he could seem to land on was her smile, her hair, her beauty. He remembered their first time, on their anniversary. He still thought she was beautiful, even when her face was scrunched up.

He smacked himself angrily. His dad knocked on his door. Joe hadn't even heard his own voice in 3 days, so it was surprising. It was raspy, and harsh.

"What do you need?"  
"I need you to get up!"

His dad opened the door for himself, and his face molted into a disgusted frown when he saw his son, but his face softened for a moment.

"I can't."  
"You have to move on, son."

Joe glared at his father, and stood weakly, tumbling back, but regaining his footing. He wiped away the tear stains, and averted his attention to his shaky hands again.

"Why should I?"  
"Callie wouldn't want you to act like this."  
"Callie would act the same!"  
"How do you know?"  
"She loved me."  
"Well..."  
"Are you doubting that she loves me?"

Joe let another tear well out of his eye, and glanced up at his father. His eyes were softly staring at him through his glasses

"_Loved_ me?"  
"Son."  
"Dad."  
"How do you know, that she loved you so much? She never came over."  
"What does that mean?"  
"Every Friday, she would come to dinner, and then leave."  
"She never left."  
"What?"  
"She waited, and then I'd go out with her, and we'd hit a new house."  
"A new house?"

Paul's face went from caring to uncertain in seconds. Joe took a shaky breath, which didn't seem to help much. His lungs just filled right back up with despair.

"We went to parties, dad"  
"What did you do, at these parties?"  
"Get shit faced."

Paul's fists rolled together at his son's bluntness, but his face dropped. He didn't want a son like that, but he loved his boy, and he didn't want him to be like this. He didn't want Callie making him into that kind of person.

"Well then I don't think Callie was a good influence-"  
"It was me."  
"What?"  
"I asked her to come. I was the first one to do it. Get drunk, I mean."  
"Joe...-"  
"Dad. I loved her, she loved me."  
"Just because sh-"  
"She wanted to make me her first."  
"What?"  
"She asked me to have sex with her. Because she wanted to remember me as the one she loved most."  
"You did _what_?"  
"Remember our anniversary, last year?"  
"Yes..."  
"That's the day I stopped wearing my ring."

Joe's dad leaned against the door, and pushed his fingers to his temples, closing his eyes. His brain was melting, and he couldn't do anything. It was all coming too fast.

"Joe, why didn't' you tell me?"  
"Well, if she wasn't already gone, you'd keep her away."  
"So many things could happen, son."  
"I went to S.H.A.R.E. I know."

Joe's dad left the room after a minute, and Joe shivered, walking back to his bed. He was wearing socks, boxers, and a white muscle tee. He crawled into his bed, and cried himself to sleep again. The next day, he woke up, to another knock on the door. He let out a crisp "Come in."  
"No, You come to the door"

It was Nick. Joe sighed, and threw the covers off, and opened the door, quickly thrown to the ground by himself and Kevin. Nick ran to the bathroom, and started the water, and Kevin held down the sleepy, and shocked Joe. After a minute, Nick came back, and they dragged Joe to the shower, stripping him of his clothes, and throwing him in. After a minute, Nick came back in, and told him to wash his hair, and face. When they were done, Joe half expected them to let him go back to sleep, but no, they dragged it on. They fully dressed him, and sent him downstairs. Denise and Paul were standing in the doorway. Nick and Kevin shuffled off.

"Honey-"  
"Mom, what do you want from me"

His voice was still coarse, but it was better. Paul put up his hand to silence his son, and Denise gripped her apron. She was making eggs. Joe's heart almost broke more, when he saw that it was for 6 people, instead of 5.

"Joe, after breakfast, we're taking you to Sun Valley."  
"Sun Valley?"  
"It's a hospital, they have classes there to help you through this."  
"Through what? Callie?"  
"And your other... Problems."  
"Just because I drink dad, doesn't mean I'm a drunk."

Denise gripped her apron harder, wrapping her hands in the fabric. Paul placed a hand carefully on her shoulder. Joe got another lump in his throat.

"It will still help, son."

Joe bit his lip, and let out a hard, choked, and cracking "Okay."

---------------------------------------------

**I've come to the conclusion that I hate all my other stories. Not even kidding. I'll still update and everything, but I wanted to do something more mature and not so lame.**

**Anyway, I won't be able to update this one as quickly, since it's really emotional and I have to be in a certain kind of mood. Just please, review and tell me if you want me to continue.**

**Personally, I love this story.**


	2. Chapter Two

Joe and his brothers finished their breakfast in silence. Joe knew this was the right thing to do, and he thought about something other than Callie for the first time in two weeks. Maybe this wasn't the end of everything. Maybe everything would be okay. After Joe finished breakfast, the family piled into their van, and Joe was sitting next to Kevin. Kevin kept flashing these apologetic, sympathetic looks at Joe, and quiet frankly, he was getting annoyed. He crossed his arms over his chest. Why was he being this way? It wasn't like he was leaving for months.

When they finally got there, Denise yanked out a suitcase from the trunk. It was the size of his torso, and it had ugly floral print on it. The water damaged fabric on the front gave a worn, hard look to it. Joe eyed the bag. What was that for? He guessed 'Sun Valley' had all needed toiletries, and it looks like she packed him his own goddamn house.

"Mom?"

"Joe, there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh, Jesus" He rolled his eyes.

"They're not just day classes"

Joe knew there was a catch. Anything with the name 'Sun Valley' was bound to be an institution. Like every other institution, the name did no justice. 'Lake View's never had lakes, 'Sunrise Creek's were never graced with sunrises, or creeks, and god, 'Sun Valley' was probably in complete darkness 24/7. A little fucking rain cloud probably lingered over it every second, to pour down on his parade. Not that there was even a parade there to begin with. So he was stuck in a place like 'Sun Valley' without a raincoat or an umbrella. Fucking amazing. It was probably full of counselors and therapists set out to ask him how he felt every minute. Cold and sterile, no outside socialization. Then it hit him. This was no different for him. He hadn't talked to his friends in weeks. He hadn't gone out of the house. He hardly ate anymore. Everyday he felt weaker. He bit his lip. Nothing he said would change a thing. He was staying here, no matter what. He submissively concaved his chest and looked at his hands. He seemed to be doing it more and more. But it was natural. He only did it when he was upset. And there was no reason _not _to be upset.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have still agreed to come?"

Joe bit his lip harder. He knew he wouldn't. He just took the bag from his mother, and turned, facing the large building. He averted his attention to the ground. He watched his feet hit the pavement. Each step brought him closer to his new home. He was amazed at himself that he was being to passive about all this. Normally he would assertively refuse to go into such a place, and angrily dismiss his mother and father for even thinking that they could convince him to try it out. But it wasn't that easy anymore. Nothing was right. He just wished he could wake up from this nightmare.

--------------

"Welcome to Sun Valley!"

Joe glared at the woman. It didn't seem to make any impact on her. As if she was used to it by now. He imagined all the Botox it must have taken to keep her smile that big, all the time. He was disgusted. How could anyone be so happy? He opened his mouth to say something rude and inconsiderate, but the lady interrupted his thoughts. All the nasty words and phrases he had in mind were swept away.

"Are you Joseph?"

"Yes..."

"This way."

She walked him into a door, leading to another hall. He looked down the narrow hall in horror. They made no attempt to do anything homely about the place. The walls were bare and sterile looking. The floors were cold and cement, and the fluorescent lights were covered in hard plastic covers. She took his suitcase, and placed it next to one of dozens of identical doors down the hallway. She unlocked the door, and swept him inside. There was a bed. That was it. It wasn't even off the floor. It wasn't a bed. It was a mattress. There were cubbies where he guessed he could put his 'shit' as he referred to it, in the corner. But it seemed as if it was already taken up by the space of clean, 'proper' clothes. Proper, meaning, a clean assortment of sweatpants in different colors, all tagged with a bland picture of a sun coming over a hill, and in fancy letters spelling out 'Sun Valley'. Simple tee-shirts and sweatshirts with the same unoriginal in sigma to them. Joe looked around. No one was there but the woman, and him.

"Where do I put my shit?"

"Joseph, you cannot keep your things. I hope you understand."

"What?"

"We need to create a safe environment for you, and your things hold potential-"

"Okay. I just need one thing."

She seemed suprised by his agreement, but her smile never moved from her face. He wondered what would happen if she tried to frown. The next apocalypse, maybe.

"What's that?"

Joe scurried out the door, and to his suitcase. He knew his mom packed it. She was insane if she hadn't. He pulled the silver zipper down, and watched the pieces of silver metal unlock from each other, like keys. He folded back the cover, and nodded, as he saw the teddy bear. It was the last gift _she _gave to him. The smiling lady, nodded politely.

"We'll get it inspected, and you may keep it."

"Thank you."

He said, and walked into his room. As he went to shut the door, the lady's hand blocked it. He stared at her cold, pink, manicured nails. She'd use them to tear out his soul, and he knew it.

"Yes?"

"You should say you're goodbyes now, and then we'll have you go through security and orientation, and that should leave you enough time to make it to lunch with the other patients."

Joe barely made it through security, more or less orientation. He had to remove everything from his pockets, get frisked, and then strip down to change into his 'proper' clothes. They all just made you out to be druggies and delinquents. Apparently this wasn't a place just for the 'chronically depressed', as the lady up front, or Janice, stated. (He'd thus far made a hypothesis that all secretaries were named Janice) It had been for the manic depressive, bipolar, suicidal, mentally unstable, substance abusers, alcoholics, and the 'esteem challenged' This included the cutters, bulimics, anorexics, and obese. It was a heaven for misfits. He felt like he was in a Tim Burton movie. Finally after orientation, where he found out that you had to be at breakfast at 7, and couldn't leave your room after 8, Joe felt like he was in kindergarten again. This was no institution. It was hell.

As he left the orientation room, he was escorted to the lunchroom. Everything had a place, and everything had a name. Absolutely everything. He stepped into the place, and was amazed. There must have been only about 40 kids, but they all looked normal. They weren't allowed to dye their hair, and only girls could let their hair grow out past their shoulders. It didn't matter to Joe. He was pretty annoyed with Hippie-guys. He looked around. There were five tables. There were half as many guys as girls, but he expected as much. Any guy with a brain would die before even getting past the chipper secretary. So, Joe observed that all of the guys here had fried their brains with cocaine, and meth. The girls were all so desperate to be noticed, they did everything to their hair. Half the girls looked like Scene Queens, the other half looked emo. Only one girl stood out, and it was because she didn't want to stand out. Her blonde hair fell down her shoulders in small, tight curls and her bangs swept over her forehead to one side. She pushed a carrot across her plate. Joe took a breath, and decided to make a friend.

"Hi, I'm Joe."

"Hey. I'm Peyton."


	3. Chapter Three

Joe laid in his bed, and looked up at the dark ceiling. There was no comfort here, no one to turn to. You were alone. He had nothing. He gripped the stuffed bear in his hands, and hummed himself a poem to sleep, as he thought of Callie.

"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs,  
The bark on the tree were as soft as the skies.  
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,  
He cries to the moon, if only, if only.  
If only, if only, the moons speaks no reply;  
Reflecting the sun and all that's gone by.  
Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly.  
Fly high, my baby bird, my angel, my only. "

Callie was a poetic junkie, bringing home binders and books full of poems. That was her favorite, by Louis Sachar. He let a tear slide down his cheek. If this morning he thought he was going to be better, he was mistaken. They had taken away all appliances that could hurt, or kill, but they also took away control. You should have some sense of control all the time. There was a knock on the door. Joe looked up. The door was locked, what could he do? He sighed, and turned on his side, ignoring whoever was on the other side.

"What, you haven't figured it out, yet?"

It was Peyton. He sat up, and looked around in the dark. He got up and turned on the light, pressing his ear to the door.

"What do you mean?"

"The packet they gave you today. Full of shit they said 'you need'?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The staple! Man, the cutters go crazy with that shit."

He scowled at that phrase. It really wasn't funny. He thought about it, when he was feeling particularly down. He went to the plastic trashcan, and pulled the staple from the paper, quickly going to the door, and shoving it in the pick lock. He wiggled it around and 'click!' He opened the door, and Peyton was standing there, particularly pretty. Maybe it was the fluorescent lights. She stepped into his room. Her hair was scrunched up, and she smelled freshly showered. She sat on Joes bed, and looked at her hands.

_"Hi, I'm Joe."_

_  
"Hey. I'm Peyton."_

_  
"Peyton. That's an awesome name"_

_She smiled, and eyed the seat in front of her. He sat down, and picked at his food. He looked up at her, and she glanced back down at her food. He wanted to smile, but he couldn't. Not yet. He looked back down at his food. It looked like it would grow feet and walk away any second._

_"So, Peyton. What are you in for?"_

_  
"I'm Bipolar."_

_  
"Sounds great."_

_  
"Sure. You?"_

_  
"Depressed, apparently"._

_  
"Oh. I'm sorry."_

_He nodded, and sighed. He missed Callie too much to think about anything else. Often he would have nightmares of her face after the crash. It was crazy, and Joe couldn't stand it. He lost his appetite, and pushed the mocking rocket ship red tray. Peyton looked up again. A tiny blonde curl snuck out from behind her ear and fell in her face. He shook his head. _

_"So Joe, you're new here?" She pushed it back._

_  
"Yep."_

_  
"Again, I'm sorry."_

_  
"Yeah. I think I'll live."_

_  
"They don't give you a choice."_

_He nodded. She was trying too hard to make him laugh. Or maybe she wasn't. He didn't really think about it. He sighed. The clink of a spork on the other side of the table made him look up again. She was glaring at him._

_"What?"_

_  
"What's your problem?"_

_  
"Huh?"_

_  
"You're being kind of mean."_

_  
"Oh. Sorry."_

_  
"What ever is making you depressed, you can get over it."_

_  
"NO! I REALLY CAN'T!"_

_He yelled, and stood up, knocking his tray. She stood up, too, meeting his stare._

_"Why not?"_

_  
"My girlfriend died."_

_He whispered, and gave up. He sat down and put his face in his hands. She sat down too. She continued to eat, but said quietly._

_"Did you love her?"_

_  
"With everything I had."_

_  
"I'm sorry."_

_  
"So I've heard."_

_He stood up, and walked to his room._

"I'm sorry for the way I yelled at you. I was having an 'episode' as they call it here."

She mentioned that she was bipolar. He shook his head, and realized that she was probably on medication.

"What do they give you?"

"Valium."

"Isn't that supposed to help?"

"If I take it. It gives you some seriously fucked up side effects."

He nodded, and sat down next to her. She was staring straight ahead, until she softly whispered "What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend."

He felt a lump form in his throat, but he figured that it would be best to talk about it. He closed his eyes and started. He remade her in his mind.

"She had red hair. Big brown eyes."

"Sounds pretty. Was she nice?"

"Incredibly. She was a poet."

"A poet?"

"Kind of. She was mostly a ballerina, though."

"That must've been nice."

"Yeah."

"What was her name?"

"Callie."

"How did she die?"

He couldn't do anything. He had managed to answer her questions without choking, but he couldn't help it now. He started crying.

"You really did love her, didn't you?"

"NO! I LIED TO YOU." He managed to yell.

Peyton looked at him through cold eyes, and he watched her blurry figure turn a slightly pale color. She stood up, and stumbled around. She made her way to his trashcan, and threw up. He looked disgusted at her. She fell to the floor, and started crying.

"What's wrong?"

"It's the Valium."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Why do you care?!"

"I thought you said you didn't take it today."

"I hadn't taken it yet. I just took it."

"Oh."

She nodded, and stood up, coughing into her sleeve. She made her way steadily back to the door. She turned around and looked him into the eyes.

"I suggest you get nice. You're really cruel and wicked when you're depressed. I understand that it sucks to lose a loved one. Happens every day. Sometimes worse than however she died. You need to start looking on. It'll always be there. **She** will always be there. If not, you didn't really love her. And since you did, I wouldn't worry about it."

She stepped out the door, and closed it behind her. Joe sat on his bed, and looked at the space Peyton had just been standing in. She seriously did not give him advice on his behavior. She was Bipolar, what the hell would she know? He shook his head, and turned out the lights, trying to ignore the stench that came from his trashcan.

----------------------------------------------

Joe sat criss-cross on the floor, staring at his clothes. They were so ugly. So so so ugly. He sighed, and shook his head. One of the hardest things on him was that he couldn't choose what he wanted to wear, and do his hair the way he wanted. No straighteners, or tight pants, vests, nothing. He grumbled and chose the reddest sweatpants and slipped them on. He picked up a white sweatshirt, and shook his head again. His hair was fluffy and wavy. Not the usual straight and thin. He shrugged, and grabbed his glasses. One of the most dangerous things they let him have. He stood up, and walked to his bed, staring at his door. Several moments later a knock rang out through his room. He sputtered out "Come in."

A gruff man in a white polo and casual pants walked in. He waved for Joe to follow him. Joe scrambled to his feet, and tried to keep up with the man's long strides. He finally reached the cafeteria, where the man left him. In there already was half the residential population. Peyton was one of them. She glanced up, and quickly looked back down at her food. Joe took a deep breath. He had decided last night what to say to her. He first picked up his breakfast, which was eggs that looked almost green, and the driest sausage in the world. He scowled at it, but didn't say anything as he walked towards Peyton, shaking slightly. She was the first one to stand up to him since that day. He sat himself down across from her, and tried talking.

"Hey, Peyton."

She glanced up, and blinked. She had bags under her eyes, and her hair was almost matted to the top of her head, but she still managed to look decent. As decent as anyone could look outside the real world.

"Hey..."

"Look, I'm really sorry about how I've been treating you. I'm just kind of depressed and grumpy lately."

"The first step is admitting you have a problem."

She said sarcastically, smiling at him. He smiled back, and she found his eyes. They just kind of lingered for a minute before she looked down at her own breakfast which was, for a vegetarian, replaced by dry pancakes instead of sausage. He looked down at his, too. She took a steady breath, and set her fork down with a clink, looking up at him again.

"Joe?"  
"Huh."

"I like you."

He sputtered out the egg he had in his mouth. She kept a straight face.

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"Well uh... I'm sorry but I just don't think I'm over-"

"Not like that."

"Huh?"

"I like you. You're real. Most people here are dictionary-definition stereotypical fuck-ups."

"Oh..."

She smiled, and reached over the table, patting his shoulder.

"It's okay. You'll get used to me."

She stood up, and walked her tray to the garbage can, where she placed it above. There really was no reason for a garbage can. You had to eat everything on your plate. It was for the eating-disorder patients, but somehow they figured it wasn't fair to anyone else. Joe watched her walk away. Even through the ugly sweats, he could tell she was in great shape. Maybe a dancer? He smacked himself on the top of the head for even thinking about it. It hadn't been a long enough time since Sophia. He was just having withdrawals. He took a few calming breaths and walked to the garbage, try to relieve himself of his brightly colored tray before 'Group Therapy'. _This was going to be interesting_.

--------------------------

"So, we have two new members today."

A woman who looked like a 200-year-old turtle said

"Joe, and... Edward."

Joe sighed, and felt the urge to curl up into a ball. Instead, he straightened up and looked down at his hands. Again.

"Edward, would you like to go first?"

A guy a few years older than Joe with a warped face that looked like he had done too many drugs growled.

"No? Joe, would you?"

Joe shook his head. The woman sighed, but smiled, and tapped her nails on a clipboard in front of her. Joe looked around the room after a minute. It was closed in and small, with one tall silver cabinet in the corner. There were small, blue chairs facing in a circle with about ten people crowded around. It wasn't cramped, just small. Smaller than Joe liked. But of course, he wanted to be out of here. There was a picture of a Chihuahua with giant glasses on, and some stupid quote under it. Joe focused back to his hands.

"You know, boys, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Joe's ears turned red with anger. He didn't have a problem, he had the lack of a solution. His _girlfriend_. He opened his mouth to say something rude, but Peyton was in the room, and she had been watching him. She quickly interrupted him.

"Some of us don't have problems."

"Dear, you admitted two weeks ago! You haven't relapsed, have you?"

"No, I have a problem, but some people don't. There are some people that just... bad things happen to."

"Well, how you deal with these bad things is how you determine if you have a problem."

This time Joe looked up, and stared the woman right in the wrinkly face.

"Mrs... Rodriguez."

"Yes, Joe?"

"Mrs. That means there's a Mr. right?"

"Right..."

"Tell me how you would react if the Mr. died spontaneously. Tell me how you would react."

"Joe, I highly doubt-"

"Tell me."

"I would be very upset"

"Depressed, even?"

"Yes."

"Well Holy Shit! If you're normal, and that's how you would react, and that's how I'm reacting, and that happened... That means I'm normal! I don't have a problem!"

"Joseph..."

Peyton added her thoughts. "He's right, you know."

"Miss Davis!"

"What?"

"This is between Joseph and I."

"Sorry."

"Now, Joseph. You were not married, I do believe? You haven't been married for 56 years. I have reason to be depressed."

Joe imagined clubbing her in the head a few times, or banging it against the annoying white walls. Maybe even trapping her in that silver cabinet.

"Are you telling me I didn't love her?"

"Sometimes lust can be greatly misinterpreted as love."

"So you're saying that I only loved the sex?!"

He stood up. She jumped a little in her seat, but remained where she was.

"Sit down, Joe, or I will have you removed from my room."

"I'll remove myself, thanks." He yelled, and walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door extra hard. He walked down the hall for a minute, trying to think of how to get back to his room. He heard another door close behind him, and quickened his pace, not wanting to be grabbed and torn to pieces by a steroid-obsessive guard. God, it really was like he was in jail. He didn't glance back, until two hands were placed on him. Not on his shoulders, but his _waist_. They were small hands. He whipped around, and found Peyton's concerned eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

Joe's eyes widened, and he shook loose from her. She didn't seem to be too hurt by it.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Hey, buddy, chillax."

She rubbed his bicep, and he released all the pressure. He looked down, finding her eyes again. A smile escaped. One of those 'alright-I'm-sorry' looks. She smiled back in a 'that's-my-boy' look. His smile faded, and he leaned against the wall, looking up into the fluorescent light.

"Joe?"

"Yeah."

"Let me walk you to your room."

He nodded, pushing himself off the white walls and letting Peyton lead him away. It was silent for a minute, before he heard Peyton clear her throat, and begin.

"Hey Joe, tell me."

"What?"

"How do you meet someone like Callie? Perfect, I mean."

That made Joe look up. "Oh. Well... I met her at a poetry fair."

"All different ways, I guess." When Joe didn't speak, she started again, not wanting to lose the conversation. "Have you ever heard of Gregory and the Hawk?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"I don't know. It's stuck in my head."

"Which one?"

"Boats and Birds."

"That's a good song."

"Yeah."

"Is this my room?"

Peyton nodded, and Joe jiggled the knob, making the hard door flew loose. He stepped into his room, and was surprised when Peyton followed him.

"What?"

"They're bound to kill us both when they find us. Might as well find us together."

"Alright."

He went to his bed, and sat down. Peyton closed the door and walked carefully over to the other side of him. She sighed, and put on a smile, turning to him. He just sat there staring at his hands. She lifted his chin with her index finger, and moved his face to look into his eyes. She leaned in, placing her forehead against his. He met her glance, and didn't look away like he normally did. His slow eyes blinked, and Peyton placed each hand on the side of his face. She finally closed her eyes, and sang softly.

_If you be my star  
I'll be your sky  
You can hide underneath me and come out at night  
When I turn jet black and you show off your light  
I live to let you shine  
I live to let you shine_

_But you can skyrocket away from me  
And never come back if you find another galaxy  
Far from here with more room to fly  
Just leave me your stardust to remember you by_

Joe lifted his hand to her face, and placed it on her cheek. She leaned into his touch as he searched her features, before they leaned in, and kissed each other softly. She felt him. Quiver, shaking, nervous. He felt her. Soft, caring, giving. As if she was only there for him. He pulled away quickly, and after a minute, she stood. She walked to the plain white door and looked back. He was in the same position. Sitting, arched, looking at his hands. She whispered, low enough for him to hear.

"Joe. You're special, and maybe things happen for a reason. No one deserves to die the way she did, but sometimes things are substantial. These things happen in chronological succession, because, in one way or another, something good will happen out of it. Something better. Maybe not me, but someone will bring you out of this, and that someone is just as special as you."

And all he could hear then was the fading falls of her small feet on the ground after the door closed. He leaned back in bed, and sighed, gripping the white sheets, finishing the song she was singing.

_If you be my boat  
I'll be your sea  
A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity  
Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze  
I live to make you free  
I live to make you free_

_But you can set sail to the west if you want to  
And past the horizon till I can't even see you  
Far from here where the beaches are wide  
Just leave me your wake to remember you by_

He turned and looked across the room at the small stuffed bear sitting on his pile of disgusting colored clothes. He stood, and walked to the bear, lifting it in his arms. He pressed his face into its soft stomach, as flashes of Peyton and Callie dug into the core of his conscience.

-----

"Hey Joe."

"Hey Peyton."

"Listen, about last night - "

" - can we forget about it?" Joe said before she could finish. That's what she was going to say anyway, right?

"Oh. Um. I guess."

"Thanks."

"S-sure."

Peyton sat across from him at the dinner table. After a 30 minute lecture on why not to wander the building unsupervised, they were both let off with warnings. Joe was picking at his piece of meat-poop. It didn't really look like a loaf, so he decided to call it poop-looking. Peyton sighed silently, and picked up a hard slice of 'steamed' coughwetcough carrot with her fork. She looked up, hoping to catch his glance... but nothing. She would normally freak out and scream at him for being such an ass, because as little as it meant to him, it meant a whole fucking lot to her. How dare he say that she was worth forgetting about? But instead she fell deep. Into a cold blue. She whimpered, and hid the tears from him. She shut herself down, and shoveled down her wet carrots, some unidentifiable food that didn't look vegetarian, more or less edible, and a hard, cold bun. She returned her tray and was escorted back to her room.

She shut the door behind her, quick to make sure that she heard the footsteps rush back to the cafeteria, before she ran to her bag, pulling out a small analog clock that didn't work. They let her keep it anyways. She turned it over in her small, cold, hands, and pushed the knobs, letting the backing fall off. The entire battery pocket was filled with tiny pills. She took out two, and put the lid back on. She placed the pills in her hand, and they fell into the creases of her wrinkles. She spoke softly.

"Hello old friend. Nice to see you again."

And she lifted her hand to her mouth, cocking her head back and letting the small pills fall down into her stomach, aching to churn inside her and let her be calm. She placed the clock back under her clothes, and she slipped into her bed. Her eyes fluttered, and she smiled, as she drifted away.

------

Not gonna lie, this was basically a filler chapter. The next one is my favorite, but I need more reviews before I can post it.


	5. Chapter Five

As much as Joe wanted to pretend that whatever happened with Peyton didn't happen, **it did**. He couldn't escape the feeling that he had betrayed Callie. It felt good to have someone, but it was nothing compared to the regret he felt for letting that simple kiss happen. His head pounded with thoughts of Callie, and what she would have said if she knew he was cheating. I mean, technically he wasn't cheating on her, because there was no her, but as soon as he thought that, he wanted to kill himself for thinking it. That's when he knew he had to move on. If he was going to have a happy life, he couldn't sit in his room, feeling sorry for himself because of what happened. Of course he felt part responsible for her death. If he hadn't been distracting her on the phone, she might still be here. But he knew that was a lie, from his subconscious. The semi-truck driver was drunk. He was facing manslaughter charges as it was. Joe was ripped from his thoughts as a knock on the door sounded. That same guard opened the door, and practically dragged him to breakfast. Peyton was, again, already in there. But she looked horrible. She had parted her hair further down, so it covered her face. Mostly her eyes. He grabbed his fire rocket red tray, and shoveled the typical breakfast foods on his plate as he sat across from her. She looked up a bit, and he could see why. She had dark circles under her eyes and she was abnormally pale. At first he would've thought she hadn't gotten enough sleep, but he remembered that yesterday right after dinner she went to bed, instead of going to her art class. They were making macaroni art. Her favorite. Come to think of it, every time he saw her yesterday she seemed strange. She couldn't catch the ball during P.E. When they would share during group therapy, she would stutter and drift off. He seemed to remember her having trouble swallowing her food, only because he looked up at her during dinner, and she was taking intensely small bites, and it would take her a long time to swallow it.

Joe narrowed his eyes at her, and cleared his throat.

"Hey Peyton?"

"What." She mumbled.

"Were you drunk yesterday?"

"Yeah, Joe, cause I can sneak in bottles of Vodka unnoticed."

"Then what was wrong with you? You seemed different."

"Nothing was wrong with me, Joe. What was wrong with you?"

"N-Nothing!"

"Are you gonna start crying on me?"

"What?" Joe furrowed his eyebrows.

"Never mind."

Joe looked at her. She was staring at her food. He tried to steady his voice.

"Are you on drugs?"

She looked up to him, meeting his eyes. The same soft ones that stared into her soul only two days prior. Suddenly all inhibition stalled, and she felt the need to be honest.

"Yes."

Joe's eyes got large, and she immediately regretted telling him. He stuttered for a moment, as he spoke.

"W-what are you on?"

She shook her head, and looked down at her food. She had seventy five percent of her food left to eat. She really didn't want to finish. She just wanted to go home, and lay in her bed. Her own bed. To feel whatever the fuck her brain told her to feel.

"Tell me, Peyton."

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why? Because I care nothing about anyone? Because all I want is to sit around and feel sorry for myself?"

Actually, that was the reason she had. He never did anything but talk about Callie. She had played a part in that, though. Callie was all she really made the topic, because it was really all that she could talk to him about.

"Wow, Joe. You hit the nail on the head."

"Well I don't just care about Callie. I care about my brothers. I care about my mom. I care about my dad and about my friends. I care about -"

He stopped. He lowered his voice, and looked down at the mocking red tray

"I care about you."

Peyton's voice got caught in her throat. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. Partly because she never really thought she would mean anything to Joe. He meant something to her. He did, but she never really thought it was more than that. It was so hard to get across to him, she never thought she was. But she had been all along, and she realized that now. When she told him to stop being an ass, he did. When she told him he was special, he thought she was too. She felt a lump form in the back of her throat, and was afraid to say anything else, because she didn't want him to know. And if she heard her voice crack, she would start crying, and she definitely didn't want that to happen.

"I care about you, Peyton. And I don't want you in here longer than you have to be. I know you don't want to either. You'd have to be crazy."

She nodded. He pushed his tray to the other side of the table, and stood up, walking around next to her. He sat down, and let his arms outstretch around her. She let her head rest between his neck and collarbone. She felt his strong arms wrap around her. He held her, and he swayed her. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She started to cry into his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she shook. One of the counselors that walked around the room stopped, and looked at Joe and Peyton. She placed her hand on Peyton's shoulder.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"GET OFF!" Peyton screamed, shoving the counselor away. She gripped Joe harder. Joe wrapped her up again, as if protecting her from the world. She shook and swayed, as she cried into his shoulder. One by one, people in the room looked over at Peyton and Joe. The counselor's eyes widened.

"Dear, tell me what's wrong."

"I w-want you to leave m-me the fuck ALONE!" Peyton yelled, and the counselor flinched back. She shook her head, and directed her speech to Joe.

"Could you please escort her to her room? She's distracting the others. She can miss her breakfast today."

"Yeah, sure."

He said, and he picked her up in his arms. He carried her all the way to her room, and he managed to open the door. He set her down on the bed, and she curled up into a ball. He laid down next to her, as she leaned into him. He 'shhh'd her as he rocked her slowly. Her crying slowed to a constant sniffle. He brushed his hands through her dark hair, as he closed his eyes and started to fall asleep. After a minute, she whispered out "Joe, I don't want to forget about the kiss."

"Callie -"

He stopped, and opened his eyes. _Fuck_. He heard her voice crack

"What did you just call me?"

"Peyton?" He tried, but he knew that she had heard him perfectly.

"No, you called me Callie."

"No, I'm sorry Peyton, I'm just tired and I wasn't thinking straight and - "

"Don't even, Joe." She said, and pushed off the bed and away from him. She looked around her small room. "Get out."

"Peyton, I didn't-"

"I said get out."

She stared at him through her cold eyes. He felt his own melt under hers. He couldn't bring himself to figure out why he had called her Callie. She wasn't really anything like her. Which left one thing, and he refused to let himself fall for it. He looked away.

"Joe, please get out."

"Peyton, I -"

"Joseph."

"Would you let me finish?!" He pleaded.

"No."

He found her eyes again, and wanted to blurt out everything in his head, and everything in his heart right at that moment. But he couldn't. Because she was hurt. But he also couldn't leave, because he knew exactly what she would do the second that he left. And he wouldn't let her.

"Peyton, I need to say something, and you need to hear it."

Peyton sighed. "Joe, I don't want to be your fallback girl."

"You're anything but that, Peyton."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's been almost two months since my 2 year relationship was killed most literally."

"And?" She urged.

"You think any other person could come out of it as fast as I have been?"

"I don't know, I've never dealt with anyone like you."

He ignored the last statement. It sounded too much like he was a charity project, and he knew she just wanted to piss him off.

"Well no other person but you could have done that. You brought something to me that I haven't felt in the past 2 months. And my brain remembered that feeling, and associated it with that name."

Peyton felt her throat close in again. He wasn't going to say it. Not now. He called her by his ex-girlfriend's name. In a way, though, she found it comforting. And apparently he did too, because he was feeding off it. She heard the stuttering in his voice, and it killed her.

"I think I'm falling for you, Peyton."

"Joe -"

"And I wanted to forget it because I feel myself coming out of my last relationship too fast."

"Joe -"

"I don't want to forget it either, but I can't just move on like that, I don't think."

"Joseph Adam Jonas!"

"I really like you and I don't know what to do -"  
"Would you shut the fuck up and kiss me?"

She said, as she jumped over the bed, and grabbed the pockets of his sweatshirt, pulling him into her, and finding his mouth. She wasn't going to let him even come close to forgetting this kiss. She leaned into him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, moving her mouth along with his, feeling him come out of shock, and start to kiss her back. She yanked his pockets again, making him fall into her, letting the gravity take over and making them both fall into the cold sheets of her bed. But at that moment, nothing felt sweeter. She ripped her mouth from his, making sure that he chased it slightly, before whispering to him "Me, too"

and pressing her mouth to his again.

--------------------------

**This chapter really isn't funny, but for some reason I can't stop laughing. By the way, the next chapter is the last one. I know it's a short story, but whatever.**

**Review (:**


	6. Chapter Six

"No..." Joe was arguing with Peyton, again. "Peyton - "

"No that's not fair!"

"What do you mean?"

"You have four more months here!"

"Yeah, and you have a week." He felt like everything he was saying was going in one ear and out the other.

"No, I can't go four months without you!"

"You can come visit me every month."

"Your parents and family will want to do that! Only one visitor per month! I can't - "

"Peyton, It'll be alright."

"No." She put her head down. "It won't."

Peyton stood with Joe and Janice, the ultra-annoying secretary, who was showing off her new lime-green talons. Peyton shook her head. "I can't do this, Joe. I have to tell them"

"But Peyton, you could be out of here in a week!"

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "And you'd still be here."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to let me stay."

"I won't let that happen, Peyton."

"I will."

Joe was killing himself inside. Peyton was due to leave this godforsaken hellhole in a week. Because they didn't know about her downer addiction. However, Joe's little stunt gave him another month onto his recovery time. The average alcoholics time frame for minimal recovery. No matter how much Joe told everyone he wasn't an alcoholic, they suspected he was.

"Peyton, I won't."

"I can admit it right now"

"Admit what?" The secretary squeezed in. Joe 'kindly' pushed her away. She huffed and walked back to her little office.

"No, you can't. Wanna know why? Because you gave ME that stupid little alarm clock, and I have it in MY room. If you tell them that they're yours, then I'll just say they're mine"

"They'll make us both have a drug test, and It'll be proven that their mine."

"I'll take some."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, for you Peyton, I would"

Her heart jumped up like it was on cocaine. She melted under him, as she wrapped her arms around his torso, letting him pull her in, squeezing all the juices out of her.

"Joe. Can't you just like, prove you're ready?"

"The only way to do that is if my parents think I'm better."

She yanked away from him, and raised her head, staring him dead-on. "That shouldn't be hard."

"Well, one, they think I'm an alcoholic, and two, they come once a month."

"You can check in a weekend."

"What?"

"You get something like 3 weekends to use however you want. You can go home."

"Really?"

The jumpiness in his voice made her heart swell. To know that he really was going to do something for her. Another 4 months in rehab wouldn't hurt him. But it would hurt her.

-----

Joe blinked into the sun. The first non-artificial light he had seen in ages. He smiled, as he thought of being free... forever. With Peyton. She lived a good two hours away, but it was better than nothing. He looked out over at his parents car, which was pulling up to the front of Sun Valley Hospital. After the initial shock of seeing his brothers, with Nick having grown half an inch, and Frankie getting a haircut, and Kevin letting his hair go curly, Joe started to calm down. His mom and dad were insanely thrilled that he was doing so much better. He was wearing the clothes that he wore his first day, but they were cleaned and ironed. He had his hair brushed and washed. He was even smiling. _Smiling_. This was reason to celebrate.

-----

"So, Joe. How do you feel?"

"Great, mom. Just great."

"Yeah? So how do you feel about - "

"Callie?"

The six person table at Applebee's quieted instantly. Only the clink of Frankie's fork as he stabbed at his plate was heard. Joe chewed intently on his bread as he looked around at his family. Denise nodded slowly.

"Fine. I think I've moved on."

"Really?" Mr. Jonas said, interested. Only a month or so prior, his son was sobbing in his room because he was absolutely destroyed.

"Yes. I've met Peyton."

"Peyton?"

"Right-o."

"What was, ah, Peyton in for?"

"Bipolar."

"Ah"

He heard the sigh in his fathers voice. He dared not say anything about her downers. He might not approve. No, 'might' was an understatement. Bipolar was something Peyton could control. Drugs wasn't.

"She gets out in a week."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And actually, I was hoping to talk to you about that."

"... yes?"

"Well, as you can see, I'm doing much better - "

"- No, Joe."

"Why not?" He threw his hands up in the air.

"You have four months. We can't take you out _four months_ from your release date."

"But mom, I'm fine!"

"You were drinking, and god knows what else."

Joe was sick of this. He was not an alcoholic. He just **wasn't.**

"I'm **not** an alcoholic!"

Several people from other tables looked over. Paul interrupted his wife, lowering his voice, hoping that it would encourage Joe to lower his. "We don't know that"

"I admitted having **sex **with my dead girlfriend!"

An obese woman sitting behind Joe spit her soda all over her husband.

"Joe! Calm down." Denise tried saying, reaching her hand out to comfort Joe.

"You have put me in rehab for almost 6 months. I'm better in two. I haven't gone through any withdrawals, and I haven't had anything to drink. Does that sound like an alcoholic?"

"Joe, you never know."

Kevin butted in, trying to keep his parents from breaking down in the middle of a restaurant.

"Kevin, shut the** fuck **up. You did your part."

"Joe - don't."

"What?" Denise said, her voice cracking, and her throat drying up.

"Kevin over here-"

"JOE!"

" -he was the one that drove me home this one time - "

"-Joe, if you say one more word-"

"-and I was completely hammered, and I said-"

"-I swear I'll rip out your-"

"-Kevin, are you going to tell mom?-"

"-your-"

"-and he said very clearly 'No, Joe'-"

"-I'll..."

"-'I won't tell mom. You just wanted to have some fun. I've had some of those myself'-"

Kevin had his face in his hands, and was wincing away from his parents, who averted their eyes to him.

Mr. Jonas stuttered out "A-are you sure? Kevin, did you say that?"

"He was so... so drunk, I thought"

"That he wouldn't remember?" Joe said in third person. He stood from the table, pushing Frankie and Nick off the booth, and exiting the restaurant. After walking down the street for a minute, he heard small pattering of feet running at him. He whipped around, ready to yell at whoever it was. But there was Frankie, tears in his eyes, looking up at Joe.

"Are you leaving again, Joe?"

He sighed. "Frankie - "

"Don't leave, Joe."

"I have four more months."

"But Joey -"

"Go complain to mom and dad."

"Joey, don't leave me. I miss you-" Frankie said, starting to cry, he reached out to grab Joe's hand, but Joe shook him off, and turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, and looking at the ground, muffling out Frankie's cries with his thoughts.

-----

_Joey... Joey don't leave me. I miss you, Joey. Don't leave me, Joey. Joey? Joe? JOE? JOE!_

"WHAT, MOM?" Joe yelled, waking up from his nightmare. Denise was shaking his shoulder, and she had very clear tear-stain marks running down her face. It was only 11:36 P.M. He guessed that they finished dinner and came home. Joe had taken the bus. Denise retracted her hand from Joe, and took a step back. Joe rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking up and around.

"No, mom. I'm sorry. What do you need?"

"You were having a nightmare."

"I know."

"I thought you might... want to wake up."

"Thanks."

"Sure dear."

"So, how did you know I was having a nightmare? Was I screaming?"

"No... I was watching you."

Joe's stomach instantly spilt over with guilt. He reached out and gripped his mothers' hand, falling back into bed. Denise sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him, trying not to cry. Joe closed his eyes slowly, whispering to her. "I promise to you, mom, I'm not an alcoholic."

"Alright, Joe."

Joe felt the anger replace the guilt. She was just saying that because she was tired of fighting with him. He wasn't. **HE WASN'T**.

"Mom. I hate it there."

"I know."

"I want to leave it."

"You're not better yet"

"Yes I fucking AM!" He shouted.

"Do you see?"

"What?"

"You're still in denial."

"I got over denial the second I stepped into the place."

"Joey, I don't want to do this again."

"What?"

"I don't want to doubt myself, take you out, then have to go through this again."

"Mom, just... just trust me."

"If only I could do that again."

Joe groaned as his mother dropped his hand, and patted it lightly, walking away from her son. Joe spoke out, so quietly "Mommy. Just once. That's all I ask. I swear, I'm not -"

But his mother walked away from him. Joe looked over at his bedside table, and gripped his iphone. Peyton decided to take the weekend off with her parents too, and they exchanged numbers. He quickly texted her.

_"Tell them."_

-----

**The End (:**

**I know it's short, but who knows, maybe there will be a sequel.**


End file.
